Band's Best Friend
by sillynekorobs
Summary: A seemingly ordinary accident at Mordhaus leaves Toki distraught. Is there anything Skwisgaar can do to make him feel better, without making it look like he cares?
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** I had to. It's as simple as that. I wanted to mess with Toki and his new wolf some more. I wanted to see if I can write short chapters when it's needed. And I wanted to see if I could write something kind of sad when pressed. So this little fic is a Guinea pig, if you will.

**Characters:** Belong to Small & Blacha. I made up Loki.

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Loki trotted swiftly down the long hall, toenails tapping gently against the cold stone. As he shook his massive head and then held it high, the long steel spikes of his leather collar gleamed brightly in the torch light.

At nine months, Loki was big for his age. Thanks to a steady and balanced diet, he was already bigger than a good majority of the yard wolves that called the grounds of Mordland home. He could also beat more than half of them in a fight. The young wolf allowed his tail to wave behind him like a banner as he wended his way through the dim passages, confident in his entitlement to traverse the grim mansion at will.

Loki was proud to be the one and only Haus wolf. Of all the scruffy animals on the large estate, only he was welcome beyond Mordhaus' doors. Only he wore a collar, had a name, and got the regular recognition of the pack of humans who lived inside. He slept at the feet of Toki Wartooth, fetched Sharpies and other such helpful objects for Nathan Explosion, and gleefully ran rings around the enraged Skwisgaar Skwigelf on a daily basis. He sympathetically laid his furry head on Pickles the drummer's knee when the man had brutal hangovers and received thankful pets and scratches for his time. He had even learned, after one painful experience, to avoid William Murderface's boots like the plague; no matter how tempting they might be to chew, the things might as well have been toxic.

Even manager Ofdensen could be counted on for a friendly pat on the head from time to time. Though the wolf pup had at first not known who exactly was the leader of the pack, Nathan or Ofdensen, he had ultimately decided to play it safe and treat both men as alphas. Better to be safe than soundly put in his place by one of them someday.

There was, however, one thing that could possibly persuade Loki to challenge either or both of them.

Loki respected Nathan and Charles. Loki held the rest of the band in high and affectionate regard. But Loki _loved_ Toki.

Toki, who talked to him like he wasn't a wolf, but a companion who understood about things like guitar riffs and the importance of solos and how somewhere called Norway could be a bad place and a good place at the same time. Toki, who made sure his bowl was always full of the choicest morsels, shared secret candy stashes with him, and brushed him until his coat shone thick and healthy. Toki who wrestled with him, laughing and howling and tumbling head over tail until the TV hanging overhead rattled, and someone (usually Skwisgaar) screamed at them to take it outside.

Oh yes, Loki loved his Toki. And he would defend him to the death. Nathan. Manager Ofdensen. An unknown opponent. It didn't matter in the slightest. Like most dogs and their immediate family Loki was nothing if not protective, and anyone who messed with the Norwegian rhythm guitarist was asking for a pissed off timber wolf messing with their innards.

Loki's tail wagged faster as he remembered back to a day not long before. The day he had finally gotten to test his metal, as it were.

A crazed fan of Skwisgaar's had managed to infiltrate Mordhaus dressed in the black hood of a faceless Klokateer. Determined to rid the world of the fastest guitarist's only real competition, the man had been running at Toki's unguarded back with a knife upraised when crushing jaws sank into his leg. And when he was down, his wrist. And eventually, his throat…

Loki still had scabs under the fur of his shoulders and chest from the stab wounds, it was true, and it still hurt the slightest bit to move his front limbs, but the glorious memory of that night was well worth a little pain. Oh, how Toki had hugged and praised him despite all the sticky blood! How the band and the manager and the legitimate Klokateers had made much of him! The very next morning, Nathan himself had fastened the brutal leather and steel collar around his neck.

"Good boy. Good wolf. You earned these wicked spikes, you hear? You're like… the Dethwolf, now."

He had all but spontaneously combusted with pride, if a wolf could know what such a phrase meant. By saving one of their own Loki was no longer a simple pet, hovering on the fringes of the band's notice until he annoyed someone—he was accepted, became one of the pack. He would do his best to make them proud.

Tongue hanging out happily, lost in vague lupine thought, the young wolf trotted deeper into the bowls of Mordhaus. Soft scurries and squeaks preceded him down the hall, and he quickened his pace. The rats that inhabited the out of sight, out of mind corners of the mansion were truly huge. Prime game.

Loki Wartooth was on the hunt.

- // - // - // - // -

"Loki!" Toki cheerfully shouldered his guitar as he stepped out of the studio. The late practice had gone surprisingly well, and now he was free to do what he wished for the rest of the evening. "Practices are overs wit for today. I cans play wit you now! You wants to go play fetch?"

No happily wagging wolf came running at his call. The Norwegian was surprised. It was strange not to find Loki dozing outside the studio waiting for him, as had been usual since Nathan banned the hairy menace from attending band practice.

Poor Loki. It wasn't his fault that he liked to howl along with Toki's guitar playing. Though the chilling sound had been cool at first, and had been allowed to remain on a few of their newest recordings, the howling couldn't clash with their music forever. There was now a sign with a crossed out wolf on it prominently displayed on the studio door.

Now Loki couldn't be found anywhere. It was very strange.

"Loki? Is you mad ats me? I's sorry you can'ts comes to practices no more. I makes it ups to you, I promise! Comes out now?"

Loki did not come. More confused than ever, Toki began to search in earnest. Calls for his furry companion had never gone ignored before. Had Loki managed to get shut inside a room somewhere? There had been that incident the day Jean Pierre had stocked the walk-in freezer with a new meat shipment... Or had a Klokateer forgotten and blocked the dog door while he was outside? That had been known to happen once or twice.

Mordhaus was big, so Toki went wandering. Every few minutes he would stop and call out again, just to make sure he didn't wander in and out of the wolf's earshot without being heard. "Loki! Where _is _you?!"

Toki was starting to get well and truly worried when he rounded a corner and caught sight of gray fur. Immediately he relaxed, laughing a little at his own foolishness. Of course Loki was okay. He had just been preoccupied at one of his favorite pastimes—chasing and eating rats, as the fresh rodent corpse he was poised over attested to.

"There you is! Whats you been ups to up heres all alone, huh? You catches lots of de rats today?"

The wolf remained still for a moment, then looked back at Toki over his shoulder. His tail wagged once, twice, slow and uncertain before falling limp once again. Finally Loki turned and began to move up the hall toward the guitarist. His steps were wobbly and hesitant.

"Wowie, Loki… you doesn't look so good." Brown eyebrows furrowed. Concern renewed in a cold rush, Toki bent down to intercept his pet. There was blood on the wolf's face, but that was nothing strange considering the rat he had just killed. Toki couldn't think what might be wrong. "What's de matters? Is you sick? Eats too manies rats?"

The young wolf whined. Swayed. Staggered the last few steps into Toki's outstretched arms and promptly collapsed like a dead weight. On the verge of sudden, crushing panic, the Norwegian did the only one hundred percent fail proof thing he knew to do. He screamed.

"Nat'aaaaaans!!!"

- // - // - // - // -

"Slooowly… Caaarefully…"

Tongue clenched between his teeth, one eye closed in drunken concentration, Pickles lifted a bottle. With its gentle placement, the waist high replica of Mordhaus made entirely of empty booze bottles and dented beer cans would be complete. Nathan, Murderface, and Skwisgaar sat in a line on the sofa, raptly watching the drummer work and each secretly plotting how they would go about wrecking the finished masterpiece the second Pickles went off to find a camera.

The bottle was almost to its final resting place when Toki skidded into the room. His back to the door, Pickles had no warning and no chance to stop the impending calamity. The Norwegian's impact knocked him headfirst into the impromptu sculpture. Luckily, the bottles weren't stacked high enough nor did the falling drummer weigh enough to break the glass when everything went to hell in half a second.

Toki was screaming before the crash had even settled. He continued yelling right over the tinkling of rolling bottles, the clattering of hopelessly smashed cans, and completely ignored the surprised squalls of a redhead who found himself suddenly, painfully buried in the ruined work of almost two hours' drunken but steady stacking.

"Nat'ans, Loki's is sick! Yous has to helps me!"

"What the hell, Toki?" Looking displeased that someone else had managed to destroy the Boozehaus before him, Nathan got up from the couch. "You should, uh, look where you're going. And that thing's getting way too big for you to be carrying him around like that."

"That's what I tries to tell you! He's is sick—he _can'ts_ walk by his self!" Frustrated and worried nearly to tears, Toki hefted the limp wolf higher in his arms. "What's we gonna do, Nat'ans?!"

"Damn. He doesh look pretty bad." Interest perked, Murderface also rose to closer inspect the animal in question. "He'sh not dead, ish he?"

"Nos, he's not dead, but he's is really very bad sick! He t'rows up on de way downs here and everyt'ing. I still gots rat parts and wolfs spit on mine pants!"

Apparently having already forgotten the wrong that had just been done to him, Pickles struggled out of the pile of cans and bottles to take a look. "Whoa, dood… Loki? You okay, little furry buddy? Can I get ya some tequila?" Taking the lolling head in his hands, Pickles tried a gentle shake to rouse the wolf. No good. "Shit, this is terrible. Poor guy."

Skwisgaar was the only one still seated. He twiddled absently with the ever-present guitar in his hands, looking on with an expression of slight curiosity. "Dat's is a bummer, I's guess. Maybes you shoulds go and gets—"

"Can I help you boys?"

The Swede looked pleased, but also a bit confused when Charles stepped into the room. "Ja, dat guy. Hows did you knows so fast dat we neededs you?"

The manager held up his cell phone. "I got Pickles' text and came down to see what it was he wanted to show me. Apparently it was quite urgent. What did you want me to look at, Pickles?"

"Ferget that, Charlie." The drummer's eyes darted only briefly to the scattered remains of his project before centering back on the issue at hand. "Toki's wolf's pretty sick, here. What should we do?"

"Well… I'm not quite sure. What seems to be the matter with him?" Hesitating only for a moment, Ofdensen approached Toki to take a closer look at the animal.

Loki's eyes were slitted and he panted heavily. Every few breaths one exhalation would end in a soft, pained whine. Toki cradled him carefully, his own bright blue eyes filled with worry. "Everyt'ing is de matter wit him. He can'ts walk, he t'rows up ons me, he breathes real hard. Fix him, please, Charleses?"

He was a business man, not an animal doctor, but Charles immediately saw that his boys weren't overreacting. "I'm afraid I don't know much about sick pets… Was he acting strangely this morning?"

"Nei, he's was normal. Not'ing strange ats all."

Nathan gazed in awe at the red, foamy saliva beginning to form around the furry muzzle. "Do you think he has rabies? Oh my God, rabies is so brutal!"

Suddenly the wolf began to gag and thrash in Toki's arms, almost convulsing. The Norwegian gasped in fright, tightening his hold so as not to drop his pet even as Loki began to vomit blood. Not rat blood commingled with rodent fur and bone like the first time, but honest to goodness internal-organs-in-the-process-of-being-ruptured blood. Pickles and Ofdensen quickly recoiled to avoid the splatter.

Nathan blinked, scratching the back of his head. "Wow. Uh, maybe he just needs a liver transplant?"

"I highly doubt that, Nathan. Toki, put him down! Lay him flat, now. Hold his head up, make sure he can breathe." There was rising alarm in Charles' voice. He never, _ever_ panicked… but he was becoming increasingly worried. This was obviously a real emergency. "Toki, think for a moment. Has Loki eaten anything odd today that you know of?"

Toki was clearly trying to think as he lowered the wolf gently to the now bloody carpet, though he seemed about to burst into tears. "Nei, I doesn't see him eats anyt'ing weird! Just de normal stuffs. I feeds him his breaksfast dis mornings, later he has part of mine lunch wit me, we shares a candies bar before practice, he gets some rats up de stairs—"

"Rats?" Charles had frozen in place, kneeling next to the shaking wolf. The razor sharp managerial tone in his voice got everyone's attention at once. "He was chasing rats? Inside the house?"

The younger guitarist blinked. "Ja. He loves to chase de rats. Is good for exercises."

"And then he eats them?"

"Ja, he's be doings it all de time. Dey's like… rat snacks. He's was eatings one when I finds him. Is dat bad?"

Without answering, Charles rose smoothly to his feet and flipped open his phone. "We need to get this wolf to a veterinarian. Immediately."

"Charlie, it's really late," Pickles pointed out with unusual rationality. "Are any vets gonna be open this time'a night?"

"We'll find one. I'm afraid this can't wait."

"What's is wrong wit him?" Toki demanded, more frightened than ever. "Does you know? Can de vets-train-arians helps him?"

"I honestly hope so, Toki." The manager sent off a rapid-fire text, then snapped the phone shut. "I really don't know how to say this, but… The rat problem in Mordhaus has been bothering me for some time. Several days ago I finally got around to having poison laid out."

"He'sh been eating poishon?" Murderface yelped, looking disgusted and impressed at the same time. "Shick."

"Poisons? Like de stuff dat _kills_ de rats?!" The look of abject horror was growing on Toki's face as he hovered over the wolf that had finally gone exhaustedly still, a thin trickle of blood still running from its maw. The Norwegian quickly ran his hands through rumpled fur, petting almost manically. "If de rats eats poisons and Loki eats de rats—is Loki goings to die of poisons too?!"

"I believe him having somehow gotten the poison into his system is the most probable explanation for all this. But whether or not he'll die from it—that depends on how fast we can get him into capable hands." With that, Charles jumped into action. "Quickly, Toki, pick him up. There should be a car waiting for us. Nathan, I think you'd better come along, too."

The big man looked bewildered. Not an unusual look for him, after all. "Me? Why do you need me?"

"Nathan, please. Just this once, do as I ask?" Charles' tone brooked no argument.

Surprisingly, Nathan followed without too much grumbling as they hurried out the door. His heavy boots ground fresh dribbles of wolf blood into the carpet as he chased after the retreating figures of his manager and rhythm guitarist. "Fine, whatever. Damn it, where's my coat…"

In the suddenly silent room the remaining three band members stared at one another.

Pickles shrugged. "So I guess we'll jest… wait here, then."

"Yeah, I guessh sho." Murderface cleared his throat conversationally. "But yeah, that wolf ish totally gonna die. Probably gonna jusht croak off in the car on the way there, yep. Too bad. Kinda liked that thing…"

"Aww man… that sucks. We got a people hospital right here—why don't we have one for animals? That's not cool. Now Toki's gonna be all depressed an' crap. We'll never get anything done in the studio." Pouting, Pickles dropped down on the sofa next to Skwisgaar. "B'sides… I like the little furry guy, too. Don't tell anybody I said that."

The Swede just rolled his eyes elegantly. "Oh, ja, is all terrible. Poors little Toki. De worlds is at an end. Pffft. Comes on, for serious! Dat wolf isn'ts goings to die. Ofdensens would nots let dat happen. He finds a good vets-train-arians dat fixes wolfs."

The drummer and bassist swapped equally skeptical looks.

Skwisgaar frowned, fingers speeding up on the strings. "For reals, guys, it will be's okay! Rights…?"

No one bothered to offer an answer.

Rather uncomfortably, the remainder of Dethklok settled in to await the return of their missing companions. It appeared that only time would tell whether the wolf that accompanied them would be numbered among the living.

- // - // - // - // -

To be continued…

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**(2****nd****)AN:** Man… this came along so dang fast! I am so pleased… Pleased like punch, yep. We'll try to get back to this soon, and see what happens to our furry friend! Oh, and the boys too, of course.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** Has anyone ever noticed how Charles is like the mommy of the Dethklok family? And Nathan is like the daddy? When anyone wants something they always seem to beg Charles, but it's Nathan who's decided he has to "officially" approve everything in the long run. Kind of cute, actually. Just throwing that out there…

**Characters:** Belong to Small & Blacha. All but Loki… who might not hang around for much longer anyway.

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"So… yeah. I think I know why you wanted me to come now."

"Thank you, Nathan. I appreciate you taking care of that. We were causing quite a scene."

Rather disgruntled, Nathan twisted until he could look behind him, into the back seat of the car. Toki moaned slightly, already bruising head lolling, and the bigger man felt a little bad. He hadn't particularly _wanted_ to bash his rhythm guitarist's melon against the concrete wall of the emergency vet clinic and then cart his unconscious form out of the building like a sack of Scandinavian potatoes, but he hadn't exactly been faced with a lot of options.

Toki had been rapidly approaching the "dangerous" phase when two uniformed vet techs had forcibly pried the bloody wolf out of his arms. When he then tried to follow the stretcher bearing his pet through the double doors into surgery, Ofdensen had had to hold him back—something Toki hadn't liked in the slightest. He was thrashing and screaming incoherently by the time Nathan was finally forced to take matters into his own hands. A remarkably short time later Charles had been able to quietly fill out the proper paperwork while the stunned Norwegian was thrown over Nathan's huge shoulder and removed to wait in the car.

"Hey. Did you hear that noise he made, right before, uh…" Nathan pantomimed Toki's head hitting the wall and nearly busted the passenger window out of the car with his own head in the process. "He totally _howled_. Sounded like a wolf himself. It was pretty brutal."

Charles frowned, the patterns of darkness, sudden light, and more darkness cast by street lights as they passed accentuating the lines on his face. "Yes, I heard him quite well. Nathan, I'm… I'm sure you've realized that he's taking this very badly. Loki means a great deal to him."

The singer huffed, looking predictably uncomfortable. "Yeah. I know."

"I trust that means you're going to be mature about all this. I spoke with the surgeon after you left. They're going to do all they can, but… I'm afraid there's a very large chance that Toki will never see his wolf again. Please try to be considerate of his feelings."

"Hey, I'm not a total dick." Nathan crossed his arms defensively, almost pouting. "Not all the time. And I know what it's like to have dogs go and die on you, the hairy little monsters. It sucks. I won't rag him for crying. Like I know he's gonna."

Charles almost cracked a smile, recalling ridiculous stories about a certain 'rascally goofball' that had made the singer grin while telling them. Maybe Nathan could appreciate Toki's position a little after all.

"Thank you, Nathan. That's very… metal of you." A sudden, broken whine from the back seat made Charles glance at the rear view mirror. "I think he's coming around. Toki? Are you alright?"

"He won'ts understand why I's not wit him. He won'ts know why he's all alone at de ends." Toki's voice was deceptively soft, but desperate enough to make Nathan instantly avoid eye contact and Charles reflexively tighten his hands on the wheel. "We's leaving him dere to die."

- // - // - // - // -

"Hey. How'd it go?"

Trying hard to be causal and act like they really hadn't been waiting up quasi-anxiously, Pickles and Murderface approached the returning party. Toki walked right past them, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. Tightly clutched in one hand was Loki's collar. Without even bothering to get some ice for the quickly swelling knot on the side of his head he shuffled silently into the other room and shut the door. Not slammed, just shut. The others stared.

"Sho… I'm guessching it didn't go sho well. Jusht a thought."

"That's kinda obvious." Pickles rolled his eyes, then turned to Charles. "But jest 'cause Loki ain't with 'em doesn't mean he's dead. He could jest hafta stay at the vet's tonight. Right, Charlie?"

With a deep sigh Ofdensen sought out a nearby chair and sank down into it, loosening his tie almost as an afterthought. "Well, Loki _is _going to be staying at the clinic… for an indefinite amount of time."

The drummer's face fell. "Ah, crap. He's gonna die, isn't he?"

"Told ya sho."

"Hey, shaddup. A guy can dream."

"At the moment he's in critical condition. I understand the chances of him making it through the night are slim, but the doctor assures us he'll call with any updates in the morning."

"Wow." Skwisgaar was finally beginning to believe that something was seriously wrong, and seemed a little lost as to how to react. "Dat's… dat is… wow."

Pickles looked thoughtful. "Well, I guess there's only one thing ta do now."

"Go get drunk?" Nathan guessed.

"Nope. I'm gonna go let the rest'a the yard wolves inside. Toki'll barely miss his wolf if there's a whole pack of 'em runnin' around."

Nathan perked and nodded approvingly. "Hey, that's a good idea."

"No, it isn't!" Charles looked like he was quickly developing a headache. "Pickles, do not let those animals loose in here. All of them are destructive and none of them are housebroken."

"Oh, yeah…" A little crestfallen, the drummer nonetheless managed to notice the pained grimace trying to make itself known on their manager's face. "Wow, Charlie. You look pretty bad. Everythin' okay?"

"Yes, of course. Besides the fact that I'm directly responsible for the imminent death of Toki's pet, everything is fine and dandy."

Murderface huffed. "Now you're jusht being sharcashtic. It'sh not your fault the shtupid thing ate poishon ratsh for dinner."

"No, but I should have anticipated a problem. When I gave orders for poison to be put down I completely forgot about Loki and the fact that he would be likely to get into it somehow. The wolf was a factor I should have taken into consideration. So in that respect it is my fault. I owe Toki a very big apology." He gave a very un-Charles-like rub to the back of his neck. "Of all the times I could have made a mistake, it had to be something like this..."

"Hey, come on. It's not like it's a big deal." Nathan shrugged. "Stuff dies around here a lot. Uh, I mean, _really_ a lot. Nothing to beat yourself up about."

But it was different this time, they all knew. Loki wasn't a nameless fan or one of a never-ending supply of black hoods or the withered ficus in the dining room no one had ever bothered to water. He was Toki's friend, and as such could not be readily replaced. Having something die that would actually be missed was another matter entirely. It would also go a long way toward explaining why the most brutal metal band on earth was trying to console their manager, rather than taking the golden opportunity to revel in his unusual lapse of perfection.

"Charlie. Hey, Charlie." Pickles knocked on the arm of the chair to get his attention. "I'm going to the kitchen. Ya know, where the booze lives? An' I strongly believe you should come with me."

Ofdensen raised a brow inquiringly. "Why would I do that?"

"So we can get drunk off our asses an' ferget about all this 'til the doc calls in the morning an' we know the furry guy's really dead. Beats waitin' sober."

To the infinite surprise of all, Charles finally nodded. "I suppose I can see the sense in that. Maybe a drink or two would do me good right now."

"Drunk!" Pickles declared triumphantly. "Drunk off our asses. The liquor is calling."

"We'll see. I'm going to go hang up my jacket and make a few calls, and then I'll join you." Ofdensen already looked better when he stood up. Having a concrete plan of action, of any sort, always seemed to make him less tense. "As for the rest of you… Ah, Skwisgaar, thank you. I was just going to ask that someone check on Toki."

The Swede, who had crept unnoticed to the door and was peeking into the other room through a small crack, predictably jumped when Charles called him on it. "N-nej, I was nots _checkings_ on Toki! Why woulds I do's dat? I's trying to see if he's is crying like little cries-babies yet, dat's all!"

"I see. Well, someone please make sure he's alright. I'll see you in a while, Pickles."

"What'sh Toki doing?" Murderface asked as their manager took his leave. "Ish he crying? Cutting himshelf? Committing shuischide? Ish he doing it right?"

"He's just laying's dere on de sofa." Skwisgaar shrugged. "On his face. Maybe he tries to stuffs-vocate his-self."

"Lemme see." Slinking up to the door where the blonde had been, Pickles peeked in. "Yep, he's jest layin' there with his face in the cushions. Poor kid."

Murderface shook his head sadly. "Pathetic. Totally agree."

Nathan frowned. "Come on, you guys. We gotta knock this off. It sounds like we give a damn, and caring's not metal. Is it really, you know. Worth it?"

The men paused to think it over. Take time out of their busy schedules to show sympathy for their youngest band mate in his time of need and risk their carefully cultivated brutality flushing itself down the crapper? Or, let Toki lie on the sofa until he fused with it and never make another album with any kind of decent rhythm guitar involved? It was a hard decision.

"Well, hey, you guys?" Pickles finally, tentatively, after another peek into the other room, broke the silence. "Maybe the 'no caring' rule can go bye-bye, jest fer tonight? An' later we'll do like usual an' pretend like it never happened."

Nathan slowly lifted a hand to drag through his tangled hair, rumpled from the short but intense struggle at the vet's. "Yeah… Yeah, maybe that'd be kind of a good idea. As long as we don't talk about it later, right? I guess he is kind of, really. _Really_ beat up about this."

No one bothered to question why the unofficial rule could be lifted for the sake of a mortally ill wolf when it had not been for a mortally ill Norwegian reverend. It was common knowledge that Toki's father had been a jack-off. Whether they wanted to admit it or not, everyone present sort of liked the animal in question. It was no contest which would get the vote of sympathy.

"So who's gonna go make Toki feel better?" Nathan growled. "Somebody better talk to him. And I don't think he really wants to see me right now."

"How 'bout Shkwishgaar? Toki likesh him okay."

The blonde balked. "Pfft. No he's doesn't. We fights all de times. Makes Pickle do it."

"Hey, I already gotta go cheer Charlie up," Pickles protested. "He's pretty upset about all this, too. Go on, Skwis. Jest this once. You guys, like… understand each other, an' stuff."

"I understands dat dis is a bunches of bull," the Swede retorted. Nevertheless, he resigned himself to the task. "What shoulds I say?"

"I dunno, jest… say whatever. Take his mind off the wolf. Make sure he doesn't go catatonic or anything, if he's not already. Stuff like that. An' hey. Be friendly, if ya think ya can handle that."

Mass grumbling and a lighting fast flicker of fingers on guitar strings was all the answer Pickles got, but he seemed to take it as an acceptable promise that the blonde would do his utmost to make their little rhythm guitarist happy. Happier. Not depressed to the point of freezing up. Satisfied, the drummer headed for the kitchen.

"So what are you gonna do?" Nathan asked Murderface.

"I dunno. What are you gonna do?"

Their evening had been shot to hell, and the men were bored. Hot tub night wouldn't be all that fun with three out of five band members occupied elsewhere, and no rambunctious wolf running around the edge of the tub until it finally got up the nerve to jump in. That was pretty funny. It had been absolutely hysterical the first time Skwisgaar and his guitar suddenly disappeared under the hot water with an almighty splash, a sopping wet and confused looking wolf practically sitting on his shoulders. Toki had nearly drowned himself laughing and Pickles had actually had beer coming out his nose in his hilarity.

"I dunno. Can't stop thinking about the damn dog. Wolf. Whatever the hell it is."

"Yeah, me too." Suddenly, Murderface had a bright idea. "Wait a shecond. I know what I'm gonna do!"

"What?"

"I'm gonna make shomething for Toki that'll totally make him feel better." Murderface grinned with something akin to the light of artistic inspiration in his eyes. "He'sh gonna love thish."

"Well what the hell are you gonna make?"

"I'm gonna make him a taxschidermy shtand."

Nathan frowned. "A what?"

"You know, a shtand you put an animal on when it'sh been shtuffed. If we shtuff the wolf Toki can keep it forever! He'll be sho happy to have it back I bet he'll forget it'sh even dead. We'll put it by the fireplasche and he can pet it whenever he wantsh to…"

"Hey, yeah!" Nathan was obviously getting into the idea. "I could help, I guess. Nothing better to do tonight. How do you make one?"

"Well you shtart with shome boards for the bottom part, then make it look all natural. We should get a bunsch of mossch and leavesh for the base."

"And a piece of wood or something. Like a big tree branch. Make it look like, you know. Like he's running through the woods or something. This'll be awesome. Dead animals in the décor is awesome!"

Skwisgaar sighed deeply as they left, discussing where branches and leaves could be obtained at this time of night and who was going to have to go get muddy digging up the moss. "I's surroundeds by dildos…"

Now the Swede was all alone. It was time to go do his part in the evening's drama—cheering up Toki.

"Why's I always gots to get stuck doing de stupids job? Pickle gets to go be's drunk, Nat'an and Murdersface gets to have artsy craftsies time, and what does I gets to do? Spends time wits cries-babies Toki!"

Nevertheless, despite his monologue of quiet whining, Skwisgaar sidled up to the door and took another look in at the other guitarist. Toki had not moved since the first time he had checked. He was still lying motionless on his face, hair splayed every which way, clutching the leather wolf collar so hard that its metal spikes dug into his palms and left blood on the sofa—

The blonde scowled. Toki should take better care of his hands. How would he play if they got messed up? Straightening his back resolutely, Skwisgaar tightened his grip on the Explorer and set his mind to being civil, if not outright friendly. Just for tonight, he could be nice to Toki.

With a confident flip of his golden hair, the lead pushed open the door and wandered in to confront his band mate. How hard could this possibly be?

- // - // - // - // -

To be continued…

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(2nd)AN: Well, Loki continues to linger. These chapters are coming along pretty fast, so we should know of his ultimate fate soon!

Thank you to everyone who reviewed and asked for an update! Hope it didn't feel like too much of a wait.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** When three men bust into an emergency vet clinic in the middle of the night with a very large and severely ill wild animal, and those three men are Nathan, Toki, and Ofdensen… trust no one to ask questions or demand to see their permit for keeping said animal. Only Dethklok could get away with it.

**Characters:** Everyone but Loki belongs to Small & Blacha. I just like to make them cry.

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Skwisgaar strolled into the room, looking as relaxed and casual as possible. He played it cool, as if he were going to ask Toki something mundane like what was on TV that evening rather than say anything that denoted he might be worried about the younger musician.

"Hey dere, Toki. What's is up?"

There was no response. Good. The Swede hadn't expected one. Everything was going as planned. He wandered over to the couch Toki was silently occupying and seated himself at one end with that head of messy brown hair a little more than a foot from his leg. Not too close, but not too far away. A companionable distance.

He decided not to beat around the bush. "So. Dey tells me your wolfs is pretty sick."

"Go aways, Skwisgaar." Toki didn't move when he quietly answered, didn't lift his face. Obviously he was in no mood for the blonde's usual insulting and childish behavior. However, a response of any kind meant that he wasn't dead to the world. Skwisgaar took that as a positive sign.

"Don'ts be a dildo, Toki. I's here to keeps your companies."

"I don'ts want no companies. Go aways."

"Of course you wants my companies. Everybody wants my companies." Considering the matter firmly settled, the Swede reached over with one hand and tugged at the collar in Toki's hands. "You's cuttings up yours fingers, idiot. Grab for somet'ing part dat doesn't gots no spikes ons it."

While his first reaction was to growl and pull his tightly clenched hands closer against himself, Toki did finally shift his grip to a part of the band that was more leather and less steel. Then he resumed quietly lying face down. Back to square one.

Skwisgaar pondered. What could he use to strike up a conversation? "I sees yous been a clumsy little Toki and drops yours Dethphone. Yous going to knocks de battery out agains."

"Don'ts touch it. I's waiting for de vets-train-arians to call."

The blonde frowned, hitching his guitar higher onto his lap and letting the chunky, spiked phone drop back to the floor next to the sofa. "Fine. But dey's not goings to call until de morning, yous know. Yous gonna be waitings a while."

"I don'ts care. I wait."

"Dat's a long wait. So you needs my companies after all." Skwisgaar smiled smugly, though Toki couldn't see it. "I sits up wit you, ja?"

"What does you care, Skwisgaar?" The brunette sounded more drained, more resigned than angry or annoyed. It was incredibly unlike the young man who would normally fly into verbal brawls with anyone at a moment's notice. "You hates Loki."

"No I doesn't."

"Yes you does."

"No, I doesn't. I don'ts hate your wolf."

"Yes you does. You says you does every day."

Skwisgaar snorted, but it lacked the usual animosity. "Pffft. Why woulds I hate de wolf dat saves your life, huh? Dat doesn't makes much sense."

"Sure it's does. You hates me. You hates Loki for savings me. If he doesn't save me den you doesn't has to worries about me ever gettings better dan you."

Skwisgaar sighed deeply. If he were brutally honest with himself he could admit that on that night he had actually been _scared_. Seeing, as if in slow motion, the disguised lunatic run at his little band mate with live steel menacingly upraised and being too far away to do anything more than bark a warning he knew would be reacted to too late... it didn't bear remembering. As they had found out after the fact, the madman had only been out for Toki's blood in order to defend the lead guitarist's title. If anything really, truly bad happened to Toki and it were Skwisgaar's fault, even indirectly…

The blonde shook off a small shudder at the thought. It was alright now. Disaster had been averted, by what had seemed at the time like a thunderbolt of snarling gray fur and slashing white teeth.

He had petted Loki that night. When all was said and done, and the doctors had done an emergency patch job on the wolf's stab wounds, and the rest of the band had gone off excitedly to dig up a proper reward for the furry hellion turned hero—Skwisgaar had lagged behind, thoughtfully tuning his guitar and thinking. Then, finally, he had sat down beside the drugged and dozing animal on the very sofa he and Toki now occupied, and stroked its velvety ears for the first time.

"Good wolf," he had said, very quietly. "T'anks you." A drowsy thump of tail against cushions was all the response he had gotten, but he was confident the message had gotten through.

"I woulds hate de wolf for _not_ savings you," Skwisgaar spit out abruptly, before he could change his mind. "Beings de fastest…" He debated the next words, twiddling the strings of the Explorer and grimacing. Oh, what the hell. There was no one else in the room to hear, and they would be conveniently forgetting about all this tomorrow anyway. Might as well finish the thought. "Beings de best doesn't means so much when you doesn't has to work for it."

Toki went very still, face still mashed into the cushion.

The Swede hoped like hell that the other would just let the admission, as it was, go. He wanted to come out and tell Toki—again—that he and his annoying competition were _needed_ like we wanted to undergo a root canal without anesthetic. And he wanted to admit that the irritating little Norwegian was the closest thing he had to a best friend, competition factor notwithstanding, even less.

"Okays."

Skwisgaar raised a golden brow. It looked like Toki wasn't in the mood to make him suffer. Alright. That was good. Now, how could he get the younger guitarist in any kind of mood at all? Preferably a better one? Once Skwisgaar put his mind to something, he didn't give up easily.

"You knows, Toki," he began conversationally. "I hads a dog once, too."

"You dids?" Toki sounded a bit interested, at least, though he didn't lift his face from the couch.

"Ja, when I's was young. A little white dog. She follows me home one day and I keeps her."

"Reallies?" At last Toki turned his face to the side. The skin of his nose and cheeks was red from prolonged contact with the coarse fabric. "Whats was her name?"

"Snö. I's was not very much creatives back den." Nor was he now, but that was beside the point. At least he had Toki's attention, for the moment. "She was a good little girl. I likes her a lots."

"What happeneds to her?" Toki asked softly.

Immediately Skwisgaar frowned, plucking faster at the strings. He sure didn't want to tell Toki that his mother had told her current boyfriend to drown the little dog as soon as she realized her worthless son was hiding it in his room. So, he made something up. "My mudder wouldn'ts lets me keeps her for long, so's she found a differents place to live. Wits lots of kids to plays wit."

"Dat's good. A happies ending." The rhythmist smiled softly for a moment, before his face fell once more. "But nots for you. I sorries you couldn't keeps your dog, Skwisgaar." He fell silent a moment, waxing thoughtful, then sighed very quietly. "I hopes I can keeps mine."

For the first time in a long time Skwisgaar hit a sour note. He flinched at the derelict twang, but Toki declined to comment. If he had noticed at all. Damn Toki! How could someone who usually seemed so spoiled, so selfish, so _childish_, possibly spare any sadness for his arch-rival's loss of a dog fifteen years gone when his own beloved pet laid on its deathbed?

The blonde cleared his throat. "You wills be able to keeps Loki, Toki. He's is going to be fine."

"I hopes so."

Skwisgaar didn't like that hopeless tone. It contradicted the entire statement. "Well I knows so—and betweens me and you I is usually de one dat is right, I be's reminding you. Manager Ofdensens finds de best vets-train-arians dat money cans pay for. Charles doesn't pick de wrongs people. It's is against his robot job's religions." The blonde smiled despite himself. "Besides. Dat wolf is beings very much too stupid to die. It stays alive just to makes trouble fors us and pees on my rug."

Toki merely whimpered softly, turning his face back into the couch and holding the collar tighter. If only it were that simple. The Reverend Wartooth had been none too smart, and he had sure made a hell of a lot of trouble for Toki, but _he_ had certainly managed to go and kick the bucket easily enough. There were no guarantees, and try as the blonde might to stay uncharacteristically positive there just weren't any good answers to give at a time like this.

Suppressing a sigh, Skwisgaar absently let his free hand trail the cleft of the sofa cushions before dipping inside. This wasn't getting them anywhere, but for some reason he was still unwilling to give up so soon and leave Toki to his misery. There had to be _something _he could say or do that would make the younger guitarist feel better.

_Comes on, Skwisgaar, thinks. It's is there, you knows it is! Just reach fors it, reach fors it…!_

The tips of his fingers brushed something paper. The blonde's eyebrows rose. What the hell was that? Probably a cruddy old candy wrapper of Toki's, or a stray label drunkenly picked off a bottle of booze by Pickles, or something equally unsavory. Disgusting. Though loath to continue touching garbage, the Swede was loather to leave it in the sofa where he sat every day. Making a face and curling long fingers around the unknown object, he pulled it out of the cushions.

It was a banana sticker.

Skwisgaar stared at the fruits of his sofa spelunking venture for half a beat before dexterously peeling the waxy back off the unused sticker one handed. "Hey, Toki. Looks up here."

With a sniff, the Norwegian slowly lifted his head—and found the sticker firmly affixed to the tip of his nose. Skwisgaar's finger held it in place for a long moment, just to make sure it was sticking properly. Going comically and rather adorably cross-eyed, Toki stared down at his nose the best he could.

"Skwisgaar, whats is…?"

The long, pale hand finally retreated. But the banana sticker stayed, and so did the friendly smile on the blonde's face as he chuckled. "Silly Toki. Has a sticker. Dey makes everyt'ings better, ja?"

As if on cue, those icy blue eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Skwisgaar! You really _is_ my friend afters all!"

The Swede made a very comical face, flinching away as if he had been backhanded when Toki lunged forward and wrapped strong arms around his waist. "Ack! Toki, gets off of me! Lets go!"

Completely ignoring the commands, Toki continued to cry and cling. He was still stretched out across most of the sofa, but had anchored his arms around Skwisgaar's middle and buried his tear-streaked face against the blonde's hip. He showed no signs of letting go any time soon. Skwisgaar struggled and squirmed, placing a hand on the top of Toki's head to shove him away, but to no avail. The younger man was just too strong, and apparently determined to cling to the crumb of comfort the Swede had tossed his way.

Finally Skwisgaar quit fighting. He collapsed back into the much-abused sofa with a defeated sigh and flew up and down the scales a few times on the Explorer to calm himself. "Alrights. Fine. Just… stays dere, den. Sees if I cares."

Toki hung on for a long time. He continued to cry, and Skwisgaar could feel a wet patch slowly seeping through the cloth of his pants. The blonde cringed, imagining the snot that was undoubtedly mixed in with the tears. He had somehow instinctively known that they wouldn't come out of this encounter without some sort of embarrassing crying fit taking place, but… how gross. However, he did not try to shove Toki away again. His soggy fate had been accepted, for the moment at least.

Eventually the Norwegian's sobs softened to a more quiet type of crying, and finally faded to mere whimpers and wet sniffles. Despite himself, Skwisgaar let one hand fall to awkwardly pat Toki's head. "Yous feeling all betters now, maybes?"

Toki sniffed. "A liddle."

"It's is getting real late. You shoulds get some sleep, ja?"

"Nei, I can'ts sleep. Whats if de vets-train-arians calls and I misses it?"

"Well…" Skwisgaar considered for a brief moment, then shrugged mentally. What the hell. He had already come this far; he could go the extra mile. "Maybe I stays awake and listens for de phone, and wakes you up when de vets calls."

Toki looked up at him with glistening eyes, wide with disbelief. "Reallies? You does dat for mes?"

"Ja, why nots. You needs to sleep, Toki. You looks terrible." It was the true truth, and Skwisgaar didn't feel a bit bad for pointing it out. "Goes to bed. It's be good fors you."

After a long pause the brunette nodded the slightest bit. "Okays, Skwisgaar, I goes to sleep. T'anks you… you's such a pal." And then, without any more warning, he snuggled his cheek against the Swede's thigh and closed his tired eyes.

Skwisgaar's own eye developed a sudden tick. "Toki, what in de hell does you t'inks you ams doing? You can'ts sleeps dere! Goes to your room and sleeps in your bed!"

"Nei, nei, I has to be rights near you and de phone so yous can wakes me up real quick when de vets calls. Good nights, Skwisgaar."

The blonde took a deep breath to begin shouting at Toki, tell him all the different reasons why that logic was skewed and explain exactly why he had no reason in the world to use Skwisgaar as a pillow. But then, he had to pause. Did he honestly want to listen to another round of crying before bodily forcing Toki up to sleep in his own bed? Not really. Was spending the remainder of the evening in blessed silence actually worth sacrificing bedroom time with the ladies and putting up with a snoring Norwegian in his lap? Probably.

_Oh wells. Is only for dis one singles night, I's guessing. De rest of dose dildos is owing me real big times for dis. Nots like I wants Toki leanings on me all nights, beings all warm, and… and heavy, and… soft… Pffft. Stupids baby Toki._

By the time he had made the decision Toki was asleep. Skwisgaar had been right on all counts; the younger guitarist's mental exhaustion coupled with the exertion of his sobbing stint had pulled him under faster than a dose of Pickles' top of the line Quaaludes. One of his arms still curled around the blonde's waist, while the other stayed pulled to his chest holding onto the collar. Skwisgaar reached down with a free hand and gently tugged the strip of leather away from his snoozing band mate. It would be just their luck if Toki rolled on it and drove one of the spikes through his neck during the night.

"Hey, yous." He managed to quietly catch the attention of the next passing Klokateer. "Brings him his deddy bear. Ands a blanket. De cries-babies needs somet'ing softer to holds onto."

"Yes, my lord."

Skwisgaar tried to reassure himself, as the roadie set off for Toki's room at a smart pace, that nothing about their current position looked gay. The Klokateers had seen a lot worse when that nut Twinkletits had his hooks in the band, and none of them had commented then. Surely they weren't going to laugh at him now, when he was simply offering the rhythmist a shoulder—er, lap to lean on.

"Pfft. Hoods. What does dey matter, anysway?" he muttered to himself.

Skwisgaar was fiddling with his guitar in earnest when the Klokateer returned with the desired goods. He ignored it when Toki was diligently covered with a soft black blanket and Deddy Bear was carefully tucked under the arm that wasn't wrapped around the blonde.

"Will there be anything else, my lord?"

Skwisgaar waved him away airily. "Nej, we's good. You cans go."

With a nod, the Klokateer left them alone in the large room. It was dim and chilly and very quiet. The fluid squeaks and twangs of the Swede's guitar seemed inordinately loud. He sighed as Toki nestled in contentedly, then yawned widely.

"Is goings to be really long night."

- // - // - // - // -

Meanwhile, in an imposing brick building several miles away, a young wolf was embroiled in a quiet struggle.

Loki wanted to sleep. Wanted to badly… but couldn't. Because wolves that were hurt and closed their eyes sometimes never opened their eyes again. And because… there was something else, some other reason.

Oh, yes, that was it. Because he slept next to Toki, and Toki wasn't anywhere near this cramped wire cage that smelled of medicine and antiseptic, in this bare room with its harsh florescent lighting and the uncertain whines of other unfortunate animals.

Even more than he wanted to sleep, Loki wanted to be back with his chosen person. Toki, whose bed he shared, whose feet he slept on and kept warm. Toki, who sometimes shuddered and tossed in the dead of night.

Toki _needed_ him, needed someone to stealthily uncurl from the foot of the bed and creep up to gently lay a shaggy head on his chest until he quieted. Someone had to be there to glare up at the pictures on the wall, daring the grim souls within the frames to just try it, just try again to touch his friend-master-god, his Toki. Someone who would lie there all night, wild eyes gleaming watchfully in the darkness until the shadows receded and it was morning, time for exercises and breakfast and band practice that wolves couldn't attend but where other strong pack mates with guitars and drumsticks and microphones would keep Toki company in his stead until they could be together again.

Wearily, Loki felt his eyes slipping shut. Perhaps he would close them for a moment. But not to sleep. For just a moment…

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(2nd)AN: Let's start 2009 off with a bang and update, shall we? This wasn't planned to work out this way, but it's pretty cool that it did, I think.

Anyway. Next chapter is the last! Finally, the fate of the wolf will be revealed. I hope you all drop in to see what comes about.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** This is the last chapter! Thanks to everybody who worried about Loki—I'm sure he would appreciate it. Now, let's go see what will finally happen to him, shall we?

**Characters:** Everyone (minus one wolf and his fleas) belongs to Small & Blacha.

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"Well ishn't that jusht preschioush."

Skwisgaar came back to consciousness slowly. He cracked open one blue eye, trying to determine where the intruding voice was coming from and who it belonged to. "Whats…?"

Nathan sniggered. "You recording this, Murderface?"

"Oh, yeah."

The blonde's eyes shot open wide. Very abruptly, he remembered where he was and what was going on. He was sprawled on the sofa—hair a wreck, a thin line of drool running down his face, guitar about to slip from his numb grasp—and Toki's head was in his lap. The Swede was even more horrified to realize, a second later, that he had one hand wrapped in the still-sleeping Norwegian's long hair, unconsciously petting it like he sometimes did the white fur of his bed covers.

There was a loud thud as Toki hit the floor beside the sofa, shortly followed by a high velocity Deddy Bear.

"Gets de hell offs of me, dildo!"

Too late. The damage had already been done, if the fact that Murderface was using the video function on his dethphone was anything to go by. Skwisgaar cursed and heaved himself into a straighter sitting position on the couch. The leg Toki had been using as a pillow was asleep. "Damn it… what times is it?"

"Sheven thirty." Murderface smirked, saving the video. "Thish one'sh going on youtube."

Toki whimpered faintly from the floor, obviously disoriented from his rude awakening. "Owwie… Dat wasn'ts nice, Skwisgaar!"

"Rise and shine, princess." Nathan grinned evilly, peering over the coffee table to make sure the younger guitarist was still with them. "We've got something. Something for you."

Completely bewildered, Toki slowly sat up, mussed hair sticking out every which direction from underneath the stuffed bear that had landed on his head. "Somet'ings for me? Whats is it?" Suddenly his eyes lit up. "Is it Loki? Dids he get betters over de night? Wheres is he?"

"Uh… no. We haven't heard anything about your wolf. We got you something else, though."

Toki's face fell, though he did try not to show it. "Oh."

"Don't worry, you'll like thish," Murderface promised, patting the large sheet-covered object next to them. "We made it jusht for you, Toki. It wash my idea, though."

Nathan glared. "Yeah, but I did most of the work. If you didn't fail shop class, you should have."

"Detailsh, detailsh." Smugly, the bassist prepared to pull off the sheet. It was at precisely that moment that Pickles and Ofdensen skidded into the room.

Despite his lingering bad mood, Skwisgaar had to smirk at the picture their manager made. While Pickles looked as good as Pickles was able after a full night of heavy drinking, Charles looked… significantly not so good. His eyes were red. Normally perfect hair, in shambles. His tie, nowhere to be found. What seemed to have been a flat out run from the direction of the Mordhaus kitchens didn't appear to be helping the situation.

"Toki, dood!"

Looking a bit queasy, Charles held out his phone to the bemused Norwegian. "Toki, here—you have a phone call. It's the surgeon from the emergency vet clinic."

Toki's eyes opened wide as he shot to his feet, nearly tripping over Skwisgaar's long legs trying to reach the proffered cell. "De vets-train-arians?! Why dey calls your phone and nots mine?! Is Loki okays?!"

"They called my phone because mine was the only number we gave them. Now, just talk to the doctor, Toki. He'll answer all your questions."

Snatching the phone, Toki took a deep breath before answering in a small voice. "H-hellos? Hows is Loki, mister animal doctors person? Will he be's okay?"

Skwisgaar waited with bated breath. This was it. The moment of truth. Warily, he watched the younger guitarist's tense face as he absorbed whatever the person on the other end of the line was telling him. He had a sinking feeling this could only end in another bout of Toki crying, and that was the very last thing the Swede wanted to deal with at the ass crack of dawn.

Toki did look like he was tearing up, but was managing it well as he nodded quickly in response to whatever was being said. "Ja… ja… Ofdensens said you coulds…? Ja, I understands… Is new techs-nog-logy? Ja… Dids it work?"

Everyone in the room stood dead still, eyes fixed on the figure of their rhythm. Any second now…

Suddenly Toki did begin to cry. But he was also smiling. "Reallies? Oh, wowie! I wants to come see him today! When can he comes home? Ja… okay… I lets you talk to Ofdensens now, okay? T'anks you!" With a huge grin on his face, Toki handed off the phone to Charles and turned back to the rest of the band. "Loki's gonna be's okay, yous guys!"

Nathan and Murderface looked positively incensed.

"What the hell?!"

"That'sh jusht great!" Fuming, Murderface ripped the sheet off their little project. "We were up all night making thish shtupid thing 'caushe we thought the damn wolf wash gonna die! What're we gonna do with thish aweshome taxshidermy shtand now?!"

Toki stared blankly at the gift, eyes wide. "You makes dis… sos we could put Loki on it when he…"

"When he kicked, yeah." Nathan seemed extra surly, as if he had run out of Explosion Sauce an hour before the sun came up and kept on working only to have their efforts go unneeded. "So you could keep him around, you know. Like a memento."

Skwisgaar curled his lip. "I t'inks it was a dis-cuss-tinks idea last nights and I t'inks it ams dis-cuss-tinks dis morning. Don't wants no dead wolfs in here."

Toki's lip trembled, the tears beginning afresh. "Dat's is so sweet of yous guys! I know what we does—we keeps de stand until Loki dies for real, and den we puts him ons it. Wowie, where dids you find so much nice branches and stuffs in de middle of de night?"

Instantly Nathan and Murderface looked pleased. Damn straight they would keep it. It was a sweet taxidermy stand, after all, and the wolf would die eventually. In close proximity to Dethklok was generally a very dangerous place to be, and they had no doubt the wolf would sucumb to its mortality in the end. It just remained to be seen what would finally bump it out of existence.

The mood in the room improved dramatically after that. Ofdensen ended his conversation with the vet, informing a happily bouncing Toki that they could go and visit his pet as soon as they got cleaned up and had some breakfast (i.e. painkillers). Skwisgaar indifferently tuned his guitar and Pickles wandered away to throw up more cheerfully than usual. All was right in the Haus of Mord. That is, until everyone else dispersed.

Toki stuck around, holding Deddy Bear and sifting from foot to socked foot. He stared at Skwisgaar, still playing his guitar on the sofa. "Um… Skwisgaar…?"

The blonde sighed. "Whats does you want now, cries baby? Hurry up, go gets ready and scampers off to sees your wolf."

"I's going to," Toki assured him, "in justs a second. I justs wanted to tell yous… um…" He was still shifting almost bashfully. "To says…"

Skwisgaar was getting annoyed. It was very early. He was still tired and stiff, and all he wanted at that particular moment was a nice long shower followed by a nice long nap. He didn't have time for the younger Norwegian's foolishness. "Spits it out, Toki, I's not havings all day to listens to you."

"Oh, okays." Toki squared himself, looking for all the world like he would rush through whatever he had to say and then run along as he had been told to prepare for the vet visit. However, that wasn't all he did. "Skwisgaar, I… thanks you. You ams such a good pal."

And with that simple statement, he surged forward and wrapped the stunned Swede in a tight bear hug. Skwisgaar sputtered uncharacteristically as he was squeezed, completely unable to find words. This manhandling by his little band mate was… this was humiliating! Not metal! Completely lacking in anything akin to brutality! Warm and strangely companionable and—! Wait. Backpedal, backpedal!

Before he could sort out the alarming jumble of thoughts, though, Toki let him go. Seeming entirely unaffected by the awkwardness of the forced hug, the Norwegian trotted happily out of the room. "Sees you later, Skwisgaar! I says hello to Loki for yous!"

It took another moment for the blonde to find his tongue and scream a retort. "Waits just a minute! Don'ts you go t'inking we's buddies and friends all of's de suddens! We's not! Is not like I ams caring or not'ing!"

By that time Toki was, of course, long gone. But screaming made Skwisgaar feel better anyway. The things he put up with.

- // - // - // - // -

A week and a half later, an important day arrived. The entirety of Dethklok left their regularly scheduled activities—most of them illegal—for the occasion. Toki in particular was on his toes with happiness as they entered the much anticipated veterinary clinic. The time had come for the Dethwolf to return to Mordhaus.

"So. How long is this gonna take?" Nathan glanced up from a copy of Cat Fancy to inquire. "I still want us to get a practice session in today."

As if to answer his question, the door of the nearest exam room swung open. Toki nearly squealed with joy. There stood Loki, happily panting, resplendent in the most non-metal plastic head cone anyone had ever seen. To a man, the remainder of the band burst into howling laughter.

"Oh my Gahd, what'd ya do to him?" Pickles snickered uncontrollably, totally forgetting in his hilarity that the liquor he held was sloshing all over the floor of the waiting room. "He's all shaved underneath!"

"He's had extensive surgery. The fur should all grow back in a few months or so." The surgeon who held the wolf's leash looked exhausted, yet proud. He surrendered the lead to Toki, who immediately dropped to his knees to wrap loving arms around Loki's shaggy neck. Much licking and squealing ensued.

"What kind of shurgery wash it?" Murderface asked unexpectedly. "We thought for shure he wash gonna kick after all that poishon."

"I'm glad _someone_ asked," Ofdensen muttered, adjusting his glasses. "The cost of that procedure is certainly nothing to sniff at, even for you boys."

"What we have done here," the vet began proudly, "is applied no less than the most advanced medical technology ever witnessed in this or any veterinary clinic. It's so new it hasn't even been tested in human hospitals yet—light-years ahead of almost all other research of its kind. We flew in scientists and surgeons from all over the world in order to accomplish it."

Nathan grinned. "So you used the wolf as a Guinea pig? Nice."

"In a sense. Loki here had ingested enough rat poison to drop a cart horse. What we have done is replace what amounts to his entire digestive tract, from stomach to large intestine, with synthetic parts. Rubber, plastic, silicon, laboratory generated organs and tissues—"

"He is de sci-fi wolf, now!" Toki interrupted, grinning hugely. He ruffled the shaggy ears poking up out of the plastic cone. The band looked suitably impressed. "Dat is so cool!"

"Quite like that, yes. He's now a very exceptional animal." The doctor smiled slightly. "After the week of de-tox he's been through to siphon out any poison that did manage to be absorbed into his body before the procedure, he should be just fine. The incisions are healing beautifully, all parts are fully functional, and I don't foresee any immediate problems."

Toki beamed, looking ready to take that answer at face value and put the entire recent traumatic experience behind him. "Dat's so great! Let's go home, den, ja? Loki, you cans stick your head out de car window."

"_Ahem._" The vet's tone immediately brought them up short.

"Is something the matter?" Ofdensen asked.

"Not exactly. There is, however, one small side effect of the procedure I feel you all should know about before you take Loki home."

"What is dat?"

"His new digestive system works a little _too_ well. Anything this wolf can destroy with his jaws, his body can now consume and process."

Everyone stared blankly.

"Allow me to clarify. Mr. Wartooth, your pet is now a lean, mean digesting machine. Just as an example, he chewed the leg off my office chair this morning. And then ate it."

As if on cue, Loki hacked and spit up a bolt. It rolled across the tile to the toe of Pickles' sneaker. Pierced eyebrows rose. "Killer trick, dood."

Skwisgaar groaned in dismay. "If dat t'ing eats just one of mine guitars, I swears to Odin I's gonna—!"

Toki happily threw an arm around the blonde's shoulders. "Don'ts worry, Skwisgaar. Loki won't eats not'ing of yours, I promise! We just keeps everyt'ing up out of de ways where he can'ts reach it."

"Ja, you says dat now, but what happens whens it—" Skwisgaar's eyes suddenly narrowed and he jerked away from the Norwegian, dropping his guitar in his haste to back off. "And what de hell was yours arm doings around me?! Go aways, dildo!"

"I was justs going to asks you if you wants to walk Loki out…"

"No, I don'ts." Loki was sniffing the Swede's ankles in a friendly way, leaning heavily against his leg and wagging his tail. "I still don'ts wants to be pals wit you or yours wolf! Keeps it aways from me!"

Pickles snickered. "Hey, that's right. Toki an' you've gotten pretty friendly this past week, haven't ya? Now ya can have Toki hangin' on one leg an' the wolf humpin' the other!"

"Shuts up, Pickle!" Skwisgaar screeched. "Yous all dildos!"

The griping was apparently everyone else's cue to wrap up the vet visit. Nathan and Charles approached the reception desk to pay the bill. The front man immediately balked, paperwork in hand. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the hell is this? Are all these… are all these zeroes and commas? How much money is that?!"

Charles took a look, adjusting his glasses. "Well, Nathan, twelve zeroes in front of the period would be—"

"There's no way I'm paying these jackoffs that much just for turning Toki's dumb-ass animal into a freaking walking garbage disposal!"

"Yeah!" Murderface chimed in with all the obnoxious sarcasm he was famous for. "They should be paying ush for letting them do their fanschy schience exshperiment on the damn wolf! It'sh an honor to work on Dethklok'sh houshe petsh!"

Oblivious to it all, Toki tugged lightly on his furry friend's leash. "Comes on, Loki, let's go home! Loki?"

The wolf looked up, startled, what remained of the neck of Skwisgaar's fallen guitar hanging out of his mouth by the strings.

"Oh, wowie…"

"TOKI, I_ hates _you—!!" Bright red in the face, Skwisgaar was nearly hyperventilating.

Toki smiled cheerfully. "Aww, Skwisgaar. We hates you, too."

- // - // - // - // -

The end.

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(2nd)AN: Sorry it took so long to finish up, everyone. Thought it had better move to the top of my list in honor of spring break. Hope you all enjoyed the ending a little, and that it wasn't too far removed from something that could actually happen in cannon!


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